The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“How are preparations progressing, Natalie?” she inquired of the blonde woman on screen. The Head Clinician nodded her head lightly, her intelligent blue eyes all the more prominent thanks to the medical grade K-48 filtration mask that concealed the lower portion of her face.

“We’ve made very good progress, Wilhelmina,” Romanoff replied confidently, her voice softened ever so slightly by the facecovering. “We’ve initiated the infection protocols as discussed. The hospital complex has been completely sealed off and all staff are in protective clothing. Masks are being distributed to the patients as we speak.”

“Excellent, Natalie,” Doctor Xi beamed approvingly. “Central Hospital is very lucky to have you in charge.”

The skin around Romanoff’s eyes crinkled as, unseen beneath the mask, a broad smile creased her face.

“I’ll have to brief the Council,” Xi sighed. “But I need to have all my ducks in a row before I talk to them.”

The Clinician indicated her agreement.

“So I need to have a confidential discussion with you about triage options based on the limited resources we have available and indications about the possible spread of the pathogen in Reineport. Can we schedule a secure vid-call at twenty-nine hundred for a number of hours?”

“I understand,” Natalie nodded, the gravity of the situation causing her fleeting happiness to quickly dissipate. A frank discussion about how to stretch their meagre resources to save the maximum number of people was not something for others to eavesdrop on. “I’ll be ready.”

“Great,” she smiled encouragingly, ending the discussion on a positive note. “Once I finish here,” Doctor Xi went on, “I’m going straight to Central Hospital to help you. Then we’ll deal with the rest of the city, before we tackle the entire planet.”

Karyna ran.

All around her was darkness.

She had no idea where she was; her sense of direction had long since been lost.

Heart pounding, breathing ragged, leg muscles aching, she forced her body onwards, plunging deeper into the blackness.

The impenetrable warren of dank, dingy utility corridors she had managed to clamber down into stretched endlessly beneath the vast prison complex, punctuated occasionally by a low-wattage caged ceiling light that provided no clues about her location. Everything looked the same in these subterranean catacombs.

A junction appeared. Without breaking pace, she thoughtlessly veered towards the right hand passageway.

She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t been able to.

Alone in that former guard’s bedroom, body exhausted but mind whirling uncontrollably for hours, pushing her to the brink of madness. She had been trapped in a living nightmare that kept spiralling out of control.

Faces... more faces... a vortex of faces...

She’d shut her eyes, trying desperately to make them go away.

To no avail.

People... like the tattooed woman... she had drilled holes into their heads... turning them into lobotomised husks... inhuman drones... pitiless robots... brainwashed into serving the Doctor...

And the dark sexual thrill she had enjoyed as she had Converted them.

Blind to what she was doing. Only caring about... the Doctor.

How could she...?

Through the hours of terror she had had an epiphany.

Clarity had replaced confusion.

She was a medical professional. A nurse.

Her job was to help others.

What the Doctor doing was... wrong.

So, so very wrong.

Shame and horror propelled her onwards, forcing her exhausted limbs to keep pushing forward.

Where she was going or what she would do when she got there were questions she didn’t want to confront.

Running kept them at bay.

For the moment.

Faces... each one a person... with a name... a life... a soul...

Adrenalin coursing through her body, Karyna kept moving, desperately trying to outrun the ghosts of the people she had destroyed for the woman who she had loved.

And maybe still did.

A voice crackled through the speakers embedded within the hood of her slavesuit.

“Alpha twelve reporting,” her Automaton subordinate announced briskly. “The mess area has been searched. The subject has not been found.”

The nurse, Karyna, had failed to report as expected that morning. Immediately, she had dispatched a number of her staff to the likeliest locations to search for her. Alpha twelve was the last to relay her inability to find the wayward woman.

Worse, after an inspection of Karyna’s sleeping quarters, she had just received a report from alpha five stating that the medic’s comms unit had been found, making it impossible to track her location.

It now appeared that Karyna’s disappearance was deliberate.

But the longer the alpha units spent looking for Karyna and not serving their primary Function the less resources that were being devoted towards the Conversion of the remaining prisoners.

Which was an intolerable failure to serve the Will of Mistress.

Fortunately the other three nurses were busy getting the equipment ready and appeared unaware of Karyna’s disappearance. she had deliberately withheld this information from them. Maintaining control of the situation was paramount. Until she knew otherwise, the remaining medics were unreliable.

“Alpha twelve,” she decided, “return to the Conversion area and commence Function as Operator on Table One.” Completing the Implantation of the subjects on schedule was the priority; alpha twelve would take the place of Karyna until further notice. “Obey.”

Yes, the failure to discover the nurse in all the obvious locations meant she had no choice but to inform the Creator.

She would decide all.

Body throbbing, she moistened her lips in anticipation as she activated the comms unit embedded within her faceplate. “Automaton alpha one to Mistress...”

Taking a deep breath to quell her racing thoughts and compose herself, she called the Bellerophon.

Her black hypno-puppet answered almost immediately.

“Report,” she snapped curtly, carefully scrutinising the attractive woman’s face for the slightest sign of anything being amiss.

“Yes, Doctor,” Makayla breathed huskily, visibly aroused at speaking to the woman she had been taught to love. “There have been twenty seven additional cases admitted to the sick-bay today. The medical staff are still conducting tests with the limited equipment they have on-board but they suspect the Pox.”

Satisfied, she turned her attention to Ana, the red haired nurse who had joined Makayla. The woman’s green eyes gleamed with barely disguised desire as she silently pleaded for the Doctor’s attention.

“And the Captain?” she continued brusquely, pleased.

“Captain Zhelikko is exhibiting the preliminary signs of infection, Doctor,” Ana pouted alluringly. “She’ll probably be admitted to sick bay in the next few hours. The other senior officers will soon follow, leaving the ship leaderless. As planned.”

Carefully, she inspected the pair searching for any sign, no matter how small that her hold over them was weakening. Transfixed upon her, the smouldering, imploring eyes of the two nurses gazed out from the screen.

Maintaining the long, lingering silence, she deliberately stoked the tension, basking in the sexual heat radiating from the duo.

Finally she was satisfied there was nothing but adoration.

Careful to maintain her mask of disdain, she inwardly sighed with relief, sure that her hold over the pair remained intact.

Even before becoming her puppets, Makayla and Ana had despised each other. She had chosen them for the Bellerophon operation precisely because of that; sending two rivals locked in a bitter competition for her love had been a deliberate insurance policy.

After what had happened to Karyna, it had been a wise precaution.

Once they had completed their mission, she had resolved that never again would she have to doubt their full and complete subservient devotion.

“The additional personnel and equipment needed to Convert the crew will be sent once Central Hospital has been taken,” she broke the silence, her confidence returning.

“The Captain and the designated officers are to remain untouched,” she continued. “Keep them incapacitated. I have plans for them. Do you understand?”

“Yessss, Doctor!” the two hypnotized women declared.

The one thing that both the Divisionists and Beth-Ahn agreed on was that Captain Zhelikko had to go. Each faction had their own potential candidate poised to take control of the ship; Sub-Commander Scheirr was a martinet who saw great potential in Beth-Ahn’s rigid, disciplined Spartan utopia, while Sub-Commander Beeth’Ea was a member of the Sisterhood. Similarly, Leading Officer Hipfher, responsible for the propagation of Authoritarian Thought and monitoring the political loyalty of the crew, probably reported to Public Tranquility and needed to be dealt with. Doubtless there were other covert operatives and informers amongst the crew reporting to Public Tranquility but they were minor players who could be scooped up with the rest.

“I am pleased with you,” she praised her obedient pawns, enjoying the flames of lust that burst into life, their faces contorting with bliss as the pleasure burned through them, the desire to worship her overwhelming all else, surrendering as they quickly worked themselves into a frenzy of passion, climaxing again and again, their orgasms triggered at the knowledge that they had pleased her.

Exhaling, she felt the tension in her body dissipate as she enjoyed the spectacle.

“Do not fail me,” she instructed the shamelessly writhing bodies on the screen as the addictive, submissive bliss devoured more and more of their minds, weakening their ability to resist her, intensifying their need.

The thrill of seeing her power and control over the pair made her own pussy sing.

Ending the call, she hurried to the Conversion area where the remaining three nurses had been brought.

But with every step her newfound confidence dissipated and the doubts returned.

Karyna’s sudden disappearance had come as a sudden hammer blow, shattering her faith in her hold of her hypno-conditioned assistants. She had spent so long preparing for all contingencies, ensuring safeguards were in place, plotting all the possible responses and reactions to her plans...

But Karyna’s defection had come out of nowhere.

And it had shaken her to the core.

If she couldn’t even control her nurses then...

Through sheer force of will, she forced the thought away.

Sweeping into the Conversion area, she registered the taut Automaton guards standing behind the three women... just in case.

Slowly, carefully, she inspected each nurse, searching, probing, looking for any outward sign that her power over them was waning.

Setting her features into an imperious facade, she addressed the trio.

“You have all served me well,” she announced, relishing the ripples of sexual desire that quivered through the nurses as they responded to her words, their eyes ablaze with the lust she had spent so long burning into their minds.

Over the past two years, she’d enjoyed hypno-conditioning her staff, turning them into loyal devotees, warping their minds to serve her needs. She had needed their medical skills intact. Their assistance in turning her theoretical work into a streamlined Implantation process that could be scaled up to manufacture large quantities of fully programmed Automatons had been key.

And she had enjoyed the distractions her bevy of attractive underlings had provided.

But the downsides of this form of conditioning was becoming increasingly apparent; as well as being time consuming and high maintenance (two things things that were in short supply right now) the psychological hold she had over them when confronted with the reality of large scale mass-Conversion activities appeared to be unpredictable.

She would not make that mistake again.

“I know you love me,” she cooed, enjoying the physical responses her words triggered in her acolytes. The three women looked at her, pulsating with arousal and need, the years of mental programming she had chained their minds with priming them to submit to her commands without question.

Selecting her prey carefully, she approached Joselynne, her hands slithering over her, relishing the shuddering, quivering, moaning, throbbing body undulating to her touch.

“Good,” she seduced the pawn, enjoying her power over the helpless woman. “You do love me, don’t you Joselynne?”

“Yesssssss... Doccc... torrrrr...!!” the nurse shreiked, her wide eyes ablaze with molten desire.

Leaning in, she kissed the spellbound woman, sliding her tongue deep inside the Joselynne’s yielding mouth, enjoying the rush of domination that coursed through her as she manipulated her puppet.

“Prove your love, Joselynne,” she insisted, breaking the kiss, enjoying the throbbing, pulsing, shuddering body that she held tightly as she gently nibbled on the woman’s ear, pushing the medic to the brink.

“Be mine. Forever.”

“Forrr...everrrr...!” Joselynne gasped on the brink of orgasm.

“Yes,” she insisted. “Mine. Forever.”

“Yessssssssssss...” her thrall exhaled loudly in an eager, lust filled gasp of rapturous ecstacy. Smiling maniacally, Joselynne made her way unsteadily towards the Conversion Table, clambering into one of the waiting indentations.

Emulating Joselynne’s example the other two nurses quickly followed suit, eager to prove their love.

A waiting Automaton restrained them. Seated at the controls, the mirror faced visage of alpha one stared impassively at the latest additions soon to be added to the ranks of the Implanted.

“Very good,” she cooed, standing over the now restrained Convertees, panting expectantly, their wide, needy eyes locked upon her, bodies rippling with barely suppressed arousal, revelling in their helpless bondage.

“You have all pleased me.”

Moans and wails of primal, desperate need emerged from the mouths of the helpless females as the flames of unquenchable desire consumed what remained of their corrupted souls.

She enjoyed the moment, savouring the power she held over these women who had willingly sacrificed everything for her. Unlike other Convertees, they knew what was about to happen to them. How utterly changed they would be afterwards. But their need to please surmounted rational thought.

They were hers.

Smiling wickedly, she licked her lips slowly, sensuously, enjoying drawing out the exquisite torment she was inflicting upon her property.

“Worship me, my pets.”

Exploding, all three nurses began to scream uncontrollably, the pent up, volcanic pressure released in a massive, uncontrollable eruption of love. Thrashing and convulsing in their restraints they climaxed and climaxed, the orgasms ravaging them as the Conversion Table began to rotate.

Their last moments as people would be spent in ecstacy.

Just as they wanted.

Just as she wanted.

Watching, she enjoyed the contrast between the smooth Functional robotic perfection of alpha one and the all too human responses of her ecstatic nurses as the Implantation process commenced.

The residual tension drained out of her body as the pungent smell laser-charred flesh and bone assailed her nostrils.

A few moments later Joselynne was no more.

Soon afterwards, the others had joined her.

Now all she needed to do was tie up that infuriating loose end.

Curled up in a ball, hugging herself tightly, Karyna wept softly. Exhaustion had caught up with her and she’d finally crawled into an alcove amidst the warren of corridors.

Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the nightmarish thoughts. Her exhausted, sore body cried out for sleep but all she could see was a procession of faces.

People.

Ghosts of what had been before.

Before she had drilled holes in their heads and installed thought-terminating Implants inside, turning them into living zombies.

Faces.

Vivid, clearly defined faces.

Swimming before her in the dark.

All the people she had destroyed for the Doctor.

That cute pilot that had caught her eye...

Jones.

What had she done?

Jones was gone. The pilot had been reduced to a twisted creature that derived pleasure from turning others into will-dead robotic slaves. Jones was a monster now.

She had done that.

Hugging herself tightly, Karyna sobbed in the darkness.

Lost.

Frightened.

Alpha one observed the scene. Automaton guards were dragging the captives towards one of the waiting Conversion Tables, two of the five flight crew were still conscious and were struggling uselessly against their destinies.

On schedule, the freighter had docked to take the weekly load of crushed ore for transport to the refinery in Reineport.

The horrific costs of building and maintaining a complex transport infrastructure to move heavy ore over the vast distances of harsh terrain meant that a fleet of dirigibles had become the indispensable workhorses of the entire mining sector. Dwarfing every other craft on the planet, these titans of the air were an awe-inspiring sight. Consisting of two streamlined, silver-coloured teardrop-shaped gas pods mounted either side of a central control gondola with a vast cargo hold slung beneath, a small armada of airship freighters ploughed the skies of the planet conveying their valuable cargo from the mines.

Unsuspecting, the behemoth had settled in the loading area, ready for another humdrum flight.

Lying in wait, Mistress’ living property had quickly overwhelmed the surprised crew.

Two black-clad Automatons hoisted a petrified pale-skinned woman up on to the Table, pressing her down into a human-shaped recess as she approached.

It was more efficient to have compliant, sedated subjects brought for Conversion process; heretofore an endless procession of silent, numbed bodies hefted on to the Tables and Implanted in stupefied silence had been the norm.

So the presence of these fully aware pieces of subjectmaterial was a new experience.

“Pleaseeeee...” the pallid Convertee pleaded, her features contorted by terror, tears gushing like a cataract down her oval face.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Slowly, carefully, she affixed the restraints around the terror-filled subject, locking her in place, delighting in the fear, enjoying the thrilling sensations that pulsed through her at the knowledge that Mistress would soon Own this piece of meat.

Completely.

Just as she was Owned.

Once the frightened woman submitted to Conversion she would understand.

Only the Creator mattered.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

After immobilizing the female, she moved on to the next subject; a bob-haired woman with an olive complexion whose blazing eyes glared at her defiantly.

A shard of memory suddenly appeared... from before...

Dancing... a club on McKay street... drunken banter between pilots about the superiority of their aircraft... laughter... more drinks... being drawn to her positivity... the energy fizzling between them...

The recollection was vivid.

Strong.

Sharing a bed in her quarters... their bodies entwined... hot, passionate sex... followed by languid lovemaking...

Now those same brown eyes stared towards her with venomous fury.

A memory of those same eyes... smiling... cute dimples...

The woman had had a name...

she recalled it: Alic...

“Fuck you...” the named piece of slaveflesh snarled, aiming a well directed shot at her face, instantly breaking the spell.

Clarity and certainty immediately replaced the useless memories. The past was unimportant. Irrelevant thoughts impaired Function.

Mistress had decided that the female was to be Converted.

Such was Her Will.

Mistress.

The raw power of the Creator intoxicated her, sending her into a rapture of desire as the electricity danced over the sensitive skin beneath her tightly slavesuited body, the synthetic bliss of servitude flaring in her mind, reassuring her... knowing what a blessing it was that she had been turned into an Automaton... nothing more than a helpless robotic slavetool... Implanted... brainwashed... created to serve, obey and worship...

As the waves of sinfully delicious pleasure surged through alpha one, she enjoyed the last futile act of a desperate woman staring into the onrushing lights of a juggernaut that was about to crush her.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

All energy expended on her final act of defiance, the subject had collapsed into stunned horror, restraints now clamped tightly around her trembling body, staring helplessly at her terrified reflection in the mirrored visor of the shuddering Automaton looming above her.

A thin trail of the captive’s spittle slowly ran down the exterior of her smooth faceplate, distorting alpha one’s vision slightly.

Seated behind the controls, alpha nineteen waited patiently as she set about securing the other three unconscious crew members, doubtless thrilling as she obeyed the sole purpose of her existence; after being expelled for associating with suspected anti-Authoritarian elements in college the former-person had ended up as a lowly prison guard on this remote colony.

“Commence Function,” she ordered the humanoid Operator.

But Mistress had not wasted alpha nineteen’s knowledge and talent. Like all the alpha units, she had found her vocation as Mistress’ midwife, bringing new, fully obedient, lifeforms into existence. Yes, the Creator valued the abilities and skills of her property and put them to good use.

And her Implanted slaves liked to be used.

“This Automaton obeys,” the Implanted alpha-unit replied firmly, setting the Table in motion.

Body pulsating with loving obedience, she watched the process begin, enjoying the pale woman’s cries growing louder as her hair was stripped away.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Freshly shorn, the pale subject was now brought beneath the laser, her blood-curdling screams mingling with the deliciously familiar smell of charred flesh and bone as the cutting process commenced.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

The insertion probe carefully descended over the gaping cavity. More frantic, terrified screams ripped through the room.

Then nothing.

Silence.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

The machinery moved away. Centred in the woman’s forehead, a newly installed silver disc shimmered as she stared flatly upwards, mouth agape, the last of her tears draining away as the Table moved on.

Perhaps she should suggest that the sedation protocols be reduced slightly? Docile but aware. Their reactions added a certain extra piquancy to the Conversion process.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

The once bob-haired Convertee, now smoothly hairless, whimpering pathetically, all defiance dissolved, was slowly being moved into position for Implantation.

Would this one scream too?

she hoped so.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

“Well?” she demanded.

“No sightings of the errant subject, Mistress,” ninety seven reported evenly. “All above-ground areas have been examined. Automaton search parties have commenced the inspection of the underground structures beneath the complex.”

Scowling, she glared at her servant. The Automatons scouring the sprawling complex had yet to discover the missing nurse. It was a prison—surely it couldn’t be that easy to escape? There was no sign Karyna had left the confines of the complex and she was hardly some highly trained commando-survivalist able to survive the punishing conditions of the desert surrounding them.

No, she was still here. Somewhere.

Reassured by the loyalty of the nurses aboard the Bellerophon, her initial shock had faded and she was able to think more clearly. Logically, at this stage, one puny individual’s defiance hardly mattered. Events had gone too far. What possible danger could a lone, frightened, traumatised nurse pose?

None whatsoever.

And she had a long list of far more pressing issues to deal with.

Yet... Karyna’s disappearance infuriated her.

The anger roiled beneath the surface like a volcano.

She couldn’t just let it go.

Her defection was a personal insult. A slap in the face. The blonde nurse had appeared to be so loyal all this time. Not only obedient, but eager.

Yet, something had gone terribly wrong.

The obvious conclusion was that Karyna’s programming had failed. Catastrophically. Her nurses had been pushed hard over the past few days so the strain must have triggered something that had caused Karyna to reject her.

Reject her love.

Now, that hurt.

“I see,” she scowled, glaring at the mirror-masked slave standing before her.

Her hold over Karyna had been so strong for so long, that the psychological effects of this sudden rejection would be intense. For years, the blonde nurse’s every thought and action had had revolved around pleasing the Doctor. Karyna’s whole sense of self was now inextricably linked to the woman she had been skillfully manipulated to venerate.

Without that purpose, without that love, the medic would probably have a complete breakdown.

No, Karyna was not a serious threat to her plans.

A trivial loose end. Nothing more.

Yet... like a tiny pebble stuck inside her shoe, this speck of grit that had worked it’s way into her plans would go on tormenting her until it had been shaken out.

“I want her found,” she snapped. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” the former Chief Warden responded firmly.

“I’m going to dissect her mind myself before I Convert her into a brainless fucktoy. I’ll teach her to defy me...” she snarled furiously, her eyes flashing malevolently in the reflective face of her subordinate.

Once more, the Automaton readily agreed with her suggestion.

“What of the other three?” she snapped, her thoughts turning to Karyna’s erstwhile companions.

“They have been fully programmed and Imprinted and are ready to perform Function, Mistress,” ninety seven answered.

That was some consolation, at least. But the fact that the other three nurses had accepted their Conversions enthusiastically made Karyna’s defection all the more puzzling.

And the wound to her pride all the more gaping.

“Have them assigned to the search parties,” she ordered. “Use them to flush out our runaway.”

“As you desire, Mistress,” the droned-warden responded with alacrity, hastening to comply.

Suppressing her irritation, she concentrated on the bigger picture. There was a message from Halfway; despite their time in storage, most of the Snypes were functional. Approximately twenty percent were unserviceable and were being cannibalised to repair the others. But thanks to the simplicity and ruggedness of their design, her Automaton pilots would soon have the rest of the fighters fully armed and operational.

They would be ready on time.

She could hear them.

Distant footsteps reverberated through the narrow confines of the dim utility corridors.

Karyna knew they were coming for her.

The Doctor had dispatched her Automatons to find her.

Cowering in the alcove, she trembled at the knowledge. The legions of Implanted slavewomen sent to seek her out would be relentless, utterly focussed on their search, determined to discover her. No stone would be left unturned.

Stomach churning, she realised just how ridiculous... how pointless... her headlong flight had been.

The odds were stacked against her. They’d never stop.

What could she do?

How could she possibly escape?

Tears sluiced down her cheeks as she hugged herself tightly.

“Hello Natalie,” she oozed at the masked woman. Scrutinising the image on-screen she could see that Romanoff’s blue eyes had lost their sharpness.

“H..h..elll..ooo...” Natalie responded softly, taking an age to form the words.

“Are all the staff and patients wearing their protective masks, Natalie?”

“Y...essss...” the Clinical Director assented, her bright eyes now distinctly glassy.

Directing a smile at the woman, she knew the Clinical Director was ready. The drug-infused K-48s had begin their work; each mask supplied to the Hospital had been impregnated with a powerful slow-release hypnotic compound, slowly eroding the will of the wearer with every breath they took until they became completely suggestible.

“Good,” she oozed. “You are doing so well, Natalie. So well.”

Nodding slightly, the medic signalled her agreement.

“You can trust me, Natalie,” she pressed. “I know what’s best for you.”

Another nod.

“Very good, Natalie. Keep listening to my voice. Listen. You need to listen. Everything I say is very important so you need to listen very carefully.”

The helpless, trusting puppet stared placidly out from the screen.

“Listen but don’t think, Natalie. I will think for you. Listen and obey,” she coaxed.

The Head Clinician’s dull eyes stared into space.

“Listen and obey, Natalie. Say it out loud. Let me know you understand. Listen and obey.”

“Liss...ten anddd... obeyyy...” the blonde woman slurred slowly.

“Very good, Natalie. Listen and obey. It’s so simple. So easy. Listen. And. Obey.”

“Listen...anddd...oooo...beyyyyyyy....”

“Excellent, Natalie. You are doing so well. It makes you feel so good whenever you listen and obey. No thinking,” she prompted, relishing the thrill of another conquest.

“Listen and obey,” she repeated the trigger phrase again, deepening Romanoff’s trance.

“Lissssss...tennnnn... anddd... ooo...ooooooh...beeee...yyyyyy...”

“Listen and obey. You obey me and only me.”

Vacant of thought, the deeply hypnotized woman sighed loudly as the last of her defences crumbled.

“Listen and obey, Natalie,” she praised. “In a moment, the screen is going to show you something. Keep staring at the screen. Don’t think. Look. Listen. Obey.”

“Yesssssss... oooo...beyyyyy...”

“That’s good, Natalie. Very good. Whenever you do what I tell you to do it pleases me. You want to obey and please me. You need to please me. Don’t you, Natalie?”

“Y.....yyyyessssss... Pleeee...seeee...”

“It feels so good to please me. Your obedience pleases me. You need to please me. Watching the screen, listening to my words, trusting me, not thinking of anything, letting your mind go blank; doing all those things pleases me. That is all you want to do. That is all you can do.”

“Yessssssssssssssssssssssssss...”

“Obedience is pleasure. Pleasing me brings you pleasure. Pleasure makes you need to obey,” she soothed, locking the hypnotic loop firmly shut.

“P...pp...leassss...ureeeee... o...oooo...beyyyyyyyyyyyy...”

“Now look, listen and obey. Please me and feel pleasure, Natalie.”

Before her a batch of new Automatons attended, their bodies now wrapped in slick black slavesuits, the hoods of which framed a quintet of faces voided of all expression.

Both the pale, terrified woman and the resistant pilot, just like the rest of the freighter crew, met her gaze placidly, their newly installed Implants glittering brightly in their foreheads.

All the pre-Conversion terror and defiance these former individuals had expressed was now thoroughly expunged.

Five sets of intense eyes stared ahead determinedly, focussed now only on whatever their Creator’s Implants told them to think.

As it should be.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

At her command, all five Automatons unhesitatingly raised their visors to their faces and locked them in place, their physical differences disappearing behind the contoured domes that finished their complete dehumanization.

Satisfied, she commenced the Imprinting process.

Their bodies began to sway as the snug-fitting slavesuits compressed and started to stimulate their Owned bodies, preparing them for their new existences as the Creator’s lobotomised servitors.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

The mental and bodily stimulation increased. Tight black-coated bodies began to quiver and shake as the relentless sexual onslaught consumed more and more of them.

Completing them.

Identity numbers lit up below their visors as designations were assigned and accepted.

Finally all five climaxed, their slavebodies twitching and spasming uncontrollably, the powerful orgasms claiming them, sealing their new designations in place.

Pleasing their Creator.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

After allowing a few moments for the new drones to grow calm, she addressed the flight crew.

“Automatons, freighter lima zebra one-thirty-one is being modified to hold Mistress’ property. They will be transported to Reineport where the Creator will use them to Convert the entire city.”

The silver-faced humanoids absorbed her words in silence, their soft bodies trapped beneath the loving embrace of their hard, throbbing slavesuits. Knowing that Mistress intended to turn thousands of people into her brainwashed drones only served to stoke their insatiable, arousing need to please Her.

And only Her.

“Serve your Function. Obey your Instructions.” she pronounced, pausing slightly before adding a final sentence, her voice quaking with awe. “Worship Mistress.”

“Worship Mistress!!” five firm voices replied as one behind their mirrored visors, the synapses of their brainwashed minds pulsating with pure devotion as they eagerly commenced new lives of absolute servitude to their Owner.

“Proceed to the loading dock and prepare the dirigible for take-off at zero-five hundred hours.”